The Other Side
by Blue Lilys
Summary: When Sirius Black fell through the veil that dreadful night, everyone presumed him dead. But they were wrong. Sirius Black is very much alive, stuck on the other side of the veil, desperately trying to find his way home. His fate lies in the hands of one. Will Sirius finally his way back or will he be lost forever.
1. Chapter 1: Within the Veil

It was cold behind the veil. He looked to be in a long tunnel, shrouded by a thick grey cloud. At the entrance to the tunnel, a dull, black archway stood. At the other end was a gleaming white archway that shone like the moon on a clear, cloudless night.

The white arch looked welcoming; promising peace to all that passed through it. It seemed to sing to him. Angelic voices rung out from the archway, beckoning him over. He ignored the siren call of the arch however, and instead remained by the opaque, black shadow of the entrance to the veil.

He had been trying for the past two weeks to get back to the other side. Back to his godson. If there was one thing he couldn't stand the thought of, it was his godson all alone. He'd already left him once and he wasn't about to do it again. Thinking of his godson was what kept him going. Was what kept him from succumbing to the angelic calls and stepping through the gleaming white archway.

Although he had been trying to get back to where he belonged he had yet to be successful. Every time he tried to walk through the black arch, an invisible force pushed him back, forcing him to remain in the grey, cloudy tunnel. He knew that there was something he was missing. A gut feeling told him that there was something that needed to be done before he could return. He just didn't know what.

Sometimes he heard voices from behind the black arch. Voices that he didn't recognise and some that he did. He had heard Harry's cries and screams as he fell through those two weeks ago. He had heard Remus's voice as he tried desperately to calm the distraught, broken boy. He had heard other people as well. People who worked for the ministry he supposed. Sometimes he could catch snippets of what they were saying.

"… Sirius Black, yes …"

"… Never doubted it myself …"

" … That poor boy …"

"… Lost everything and now this …"

"… Can't believe some of the things being said about you-know-who …"

"… Some people can be so ignorant …"

"… Absolute outrage …"

He had screamed and shouted as loud as he could but no one seemed to hear him.

The veil was a curious place. He had been there for two weeks and although he hadn't eaten anything in that time he somehow felt full. And although his screams and cries as he tried to gain the attention of someone on the other side would normally have made his voice dry and hoarse, his throat felt normal. In fact, he hadn't changed at all. His facial hair hadn't grown, he hadn't become either hungry or thirsty and he still looked and smelled clean, despite not having showered in weeks. It was most bizarre.

* * *

Another two weeks passed by slowly. He had been in the tunnel for a month now and had resorted to talking to himself. Anything to distract him from the beckoning call of the white arch. During these conversations with himself he would brainstorm ideas, sometimes even contradicting himself. He felt as though he were back in Azkaban, with only the dementors and the tortured cries of the other prisoners for company. Only this time it was just him. There were no foul, soul-sucking creatures lurking around. There were no haunted screams. There was just him. Him and the beautiful ghostly voices drifting out from behind the white arch in quick succession.

But despite how much he wanted he wanted to be on the side of that white archway, he stayed where he was. Refusing to give in. He knew he would remain there for as long as it took. For Harry.


	2. Chapter 2: A Ghostly Voice

In the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive, a 15 (soon to be 16) year old boy sat alone. Harry Potter was thinking about all that had happened in the past month. All that he'd lost in the past month.

Ever since Dumbledore had revealed the secrets of the prophesy to him, Harry realised just how naive and foolish he had been. He had spent the entirety of his fifth year pushing people for answers, hating being kept in the dark, but now he felt as if he wanted nothing more than to go back to that time. Anything would be better than the felling of absolute fear and horror that bubbled inside him like a toxic chemical whenever he thought about the prophesy.

It was at times like this when he would normally have turned to his Godfather. But that was no longer an option. The last of his family was dead and Harry had never felt more alone. Even more alone than he had as a small child, spending days on end in the small cupboard under the stairs.

It's funny; he had always hoped to get away from that cupboard when he was little but now he'd give anything to be that little boy again, curled up in his cupboard, thinking that his life was hard when really he had no idea. Those were the days when he never had anything to lose.

The Dursleys had just ignored him this summer, like they had last year. All of his time was spent up in his room or aimlessly wandering the streets. He hadn't written to Ron or Hermione when they owled asking how he was holding up. He didn't want to do anything anymore.

All he wanted was Sirius back, but that was never going to happen. Sirius was gone, dead, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Oh, how he wished he hadn't been as stupid to go to the Department of Mysteries that night. How he wished he hadn't been so arrogant to presume that he knew everything about those visions.

Harry tried to justify it. _Well_, he thought, _I did think he was being tortured, what if the vision was true and I hadn't gone? _No matter how much he tried to reason with the little voice of guilt that taunted him day and night, he still blamed himself. He would always blame himself.

Another thing that he did was try and find someone other than himself to blame. _Dumbledore_, for ignoring him all year. For not being there when Harry needed him. _Remus_, for holding him back when he'd tried to get to Sirius. Maybe if Remus had let him go then Harry would have been able to reach his godfather in time.

No one's actions seemed as bad as Harry's though, who had essentially lead his godfather to his death.

Harry felt as if he were drowning in his own sorrow, his guilt consuming him. He felt empty, numb. Harry wondered if this was what it felt like when you spent all of your time around dementors. He wondered if this was how Sirius had felt while he sat in Azkaban, focusing wholeheartedly on his innocence in order to stay sane. Harry shivered at the thought.

He climbed into bed and tried his best to sleep. It did not come for a while and when it did it was restless.

* * *

_The department of mysteries was a cold, dark room. Harry was there alone. A change from the usual nightmares. It seemed peaceful even. A strange word to describe the place where your heart broke in two and you forgot how to hope. _

_A strange force was pulling him towards the veil. His feet moved on auto-pilot until he found himself standing in front of the stone archway that had swallowed his godfather a month before. _

_A ghostly voice rung out into the silence of the room. Just one voice. Just one word._

"_Harry."_

_Harry knew it was Sirius._


	3. Chapter 3: A Whisper in the Park

Harry Potter shot up in bed faster than a firebolt broomstick, a shocked gasp escaping his mouth. He had never had a dream like that before. It didn't feel like a dream either, it felt very much real.

He shakily threw the blanket off him and got out of bed. His alarm clock read 5:18am. Deciding that it wasn't too early to get up and start getting ready for the day, Harry pulled on a clean pair of jeans and one of Dudley's old, baggy tops. He tiptoed to the bathroom, careful not to wake the Dursleys, and splashed some cold water on his face.

He could not get that peculiar dream out of his mind. He was 100% sure that the voice he had heard was Sirius. Even though he knew Sirius to be gone there was still a part of him hanging on, refusing to let go. A part of him was still expecting his godfather to turn up on the doorstep, his bark-like laugh echoing through the Dursleys immaculate house when he told Harry he was free and that they could be a proper family. That was what his heart was telling him, but his head knew that that was never going to happen. That he would never hear Sirius's bark-like laugh again. That Sirius was never coming back.

A part of Harry hated Sirius for leaving him. For taking away his last hope of a family. In some ways Sirius's death was worse than his parents'. He had never really got to know them, but Sirius was something different. Sirius was the man that had broken out of Azkaban and travelled all the way to Magnolia Crescent, just to catch a glimpse of his godson as a teenager. Sirius was the one who had risked being captured, simply to watch Harry play in a quidditch match. Sirius was Harry's most significant father figure.

Harry crept downstairs, scribbled a note saying "gone out, be back later," to the Dursleys, (not that they would care anyway,) and left. He didn't know where he was going but kept walking nonetheless. Eventually, he found himself sitting on a swing in the empty play-park down the road.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the chain of the swing, listening to nothing but the birds tweeting from the surrounding rooftops and trees. His mind was empty, a welcome change from the usual, horrid thoughts that raced through his mind a mile a minute.

It was then it happened.

"_Harry,"_ a voice said.

Harry's eyes flew open; they darted frantically around the park in front of him. No one was there. Harry had heard the voice so clearly; as if it had been whispered in his ear. He looked to the side, behind him, down the road; no one.

It was Sirius, Harry was sure. He'd recognise that voice anywhere. It was the voice that haunted him in his dreams; it was the voice he had heard last night.

"Sirius!" he called out to the deserted streets.

"_Harry,"_ the voice said again.

Harry stood and looked around desperately. Sirius was here; he knew it, he had to be.

"Sirius!" he called again.

But this time, no one answered.


	4. Chapter 4: White Noise

"Harry?" A voice called across the park.

Harry whipped around, half-expecting to see Sirius standing behind him. He came face-to-face with a man, only it wasn't Sirius.

"Remus," Harry said as the shabby, scarred man approached him. "Did you hear it too?"

"Hear what?" Remus asked, looking at Harry with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"That voice."

"What voice?"

"It was Sirius. I just heard it," Harry explained, looking around the park.

"Harry, Sirius is-"

"Dead, I know," Harry said sharply, cutting him off. "I'm just telling you what I heard."

"Harry, have you been sleeping okay lately?"

"I'm not crazy!" Harry half shouted.

"I'm not saying you are," Remus said quickly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just saying that exhaustion can-"

"I'm not exhausted!" Harry yelled. He lowered his voice a little but it was still with a harsh tone that he said, "Why are you here anyway?"

Remus, looking a little shocked by Harry's attitude, said, "You haven't written in four days. We were worried."

"So Dumbledore sent you here to spy on me then?" the younger boy asked accusingly.

"_Professor_ Dumbledore, Harry, and no I'm not spying on you. I just wanted to see how you were."

"Yeah well now you've seen you can go," Harry said, looking around for Sirius once again.

"At least let me walk you home," Remus reasoned as he stared at Harry worriedly.

"It's fine, bye," Harry said, turning his back on the werewolf.

Remus, frowning a little, disappeared, swearing to himself that he would visit Harry again soon to check on him.

When Harry heard the loud pop with which Remus had disappeared, he turned quickly around. He felt bad for being so horrible to his werewolf friend but he had more important things to do. Like finding out why he kept hearing Sirius's voice. He knew there was an answer and he felt like it was staring him in the face but every time he got close to an answer it slipped away. There had to be something he was missing. He just didn't know what.

Sighing, Harry began the walk home. When he entered the house the first thing he noticed was that it was empty. He shut the door behind him and went into the kitchen. On the table was the note he had left that morning. Underneath his untidy scrawl was Petunia's pristine swirly writing.

_We've gone out. Be back sometime tonight. Don't break anything. If we come back to the house in ruins you will be in big trouble._

Honestly, Harry thought discarding the note, what did they think he was going to do? Blow up the house perhaps?

He walked into the living room to watch the telly; something he never got the chance to do.

Picking up the remote and pressing the on button, Harry jumped about a foot in the air when a load of white noise crackled painfully through the living room.

He tried to turn it off, change the channel, anything. But all he got was a load of very loud static. All of a sudden a voice could be heard from the TV. Above all the white noise came a voice. It spoke one word.

"_Harry."_


	5. Chapter 5: Justice at Last

Harry gasped.

"Sirius?" he asked the television.

"_Harry,"_ the voice spoke again.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted, dropping to his knees in front of the screen. No one answered.

The television went back to normal but before it did, Harry was sure he had seen a large black arch.

_What's happening to me?_ Harry thought. _Maybe I am going mad. No, I can't be. I'm absolutely fine, just exhausted like Remus said. Maybe I should just sleep then all of this will go away. _

Harry stood up and practically ran to his room. He laid down on his bed, and prayed for sleep to come.

* * *

"So, Remus," Dumbledore began at the Order meeting that morning. "How was Harry when you checked on him?"

Remus sighed, "He's not coping well. He looks exhausted and he-" Remus stopped suddenly, wondering if he should tell the Order about what Harry had said about Sirius that morning.

"Go on," Dumbledore urged, looking curiously at the werewolf.

"He's just not coping," Remus said, deciding not to betray Harry's confidence until he could talk to the teenager properly and get to the bottom of what was going on. He felt Dumbledore's eyes piercing into him as he cast his head down and Remus had the distinct feeling that the elderly headmaster knew exactly what he was thinking.

Several other Order members were looking between the pair, their eyes narrowed suspiciously. Remus kept his head down but it was still a few more minutes before the headmaster continued.

"Very well. Now, Arthur, how are things at the ministry?"

"Fudge has finally stopped burying his head in the sand and has admitted that you-know-who-"

"Please, Arthur," Dumbledore began, interrupting the red headed man. "Use his name. I have always stood by the fact that fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself."

Arthur nodded and continued. "He has at last admitted that Voldemort," - he spoke the name fearfully, - "has returned. He's recommending extreme caution but there has been talk Albus."

"Talk of what?"

"Well some are saying that Fudge is covering up some attacks and I've noticed that Lucius has been acting very suspiciously. Disappearing suddenly during meetings, hardly coming into work. He was a death eater the last time Voldemort rose to power, Albus, the only reason he got away with it was because he claimed that he-"

"I'm well aware of the circumstances surrounding Lucius, Arthur. Please keep an eye on him. If you notice any interference in the ministry on his part then please alert me immediately." Dumbledore said as he pulled a pocket watch from his robe pocket.

It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. I must have made sense to Dumbledore though because as he put the watch away he said, "I have to return to the school I'm afraid. Professor Flitwick is going to be putting extra wards around the school and requires my assistance. I'd best not be late. Good day everyone."

Dumbledore swept gracefully out of the room as everyone else stood. Remus pulled on his jacket and made for the front door. Before he could though, a friendly voice stopped him.

"Remus." The voice of Arthur Weasley drifted down the hall as he approached the werewolf. "Wait."

"Is everything alright, Arthur," Remus asked kindly, turning around.

"I actually have something for you. I wanted to wait until after the meeting."

He pulled an envelope from his pocket and presented it to Remus, who took it and tore it open.

"It's Sirius's release papers. The minister knows he was fighting for our side and after he found out the true story he had these drew up. I don't know whether it's of any conciliation to you or not but…" Arthur trailed off.

"No," Remus said, sounding a little choked. "It is. Thank you, Arthur."

"You're very welcome, Remus. You take care and Molly said she wants to see you for dinner at least four times a week."

"I'll hold you to that," said Remus, chuckling as he walked out of the door and down the road, unaware of Harry Potter's distress at 4 Privet Drive, just 30 miles away.


	6. Chapter 6: Hearing Harry

Sirius was still in the tunnel. He felt as if he were slowly going mad. Questions he couldn't answer ran through his head in faster than his old flying motorcycle. _I wonder what Harry's doing now? What time is it? Will I ever get back to him?_

All of a sudden, a strange feeling swept over him. He felt a presence on the other side of the veil. He couldn't explain it, but a gut feeling told him it was Harry. Not sure if he was right or not, Sirius called out as loud as he could.

"_Harry."_

The presence was gone as quickly as it came and Sirius was sure he'd made a mistake. Putting the thought to rest, he began to think of ways to get out; a task that was proving difficult. He was sure that Harry would've had some good ideas had he been there; but he wasn't. In that moment, it really hit Sirius how much he needed Harry; how much he needed to get back.

"_Harry,"_ he breathed sadly.

Considering he wasn't expecting an answer, one can only imagine Sirius' surprise when a voice called out, "Sirius!"

The animagus was immediately alert. That voice belonged to Harry, he knew it. Sirius wondered if perhaps Harry was on the other side of the veil, trying to reach him.

"Harry," he said again, a little louder this time.

"Sirius!" the voice once again called.

Before he could call back however, the black veil glowed blue. A bright, sky blue glow was washing over him in waves like a patronus charm. Sirius stepped towards the light, but before he could reach out his arm, the veil sealed once again. The blue glow disappeared and was replaced by the same black wall and the same strangely loud silence that had been there for the past month. Harry was gone.

* * *

Harry Potter tossed and turned in bed, caught in the grip of another bad dream. Sirius's death flashed before his eyes before the scene suddenly changed. Changed to the same dream he'd had the previous night.

_He was still in the department of mysteries, but was there alone. _

_A strange force was once again forcing his feet to move on auto-pilot until he was standing in front of the stone archway that had Sirius had fallen through the previous month. _

_A ghostly voice rung out into the silence of the room. Just one voice. Just one word._

_"__Harry."_

_It was Sirius._

Harry's eyes snapped open and he immediately sat bolt upright in bed. _What was going on?_

Harry was completely sure that Sirius was the one that was calling him. Trying to reach him. Why exactly he could hear Sirius' voice was beyond him, all he knew was that he needed to find his godfather.

He got off the bed and pulled on his shoes, not really sure what he was going to do but building a plan up in his head as he went.

The saviour needed his Godfather, and the saviour would not be stopped.

af Ha


	7. Chapter 7: The Home of the Wolf

Remus apparated just outside the wards surrounding Privet Drive, knowing that he simply had to check on Harry after what had happened that morning. Remus felt a responsibility in seeing that Harry was alright and was confused as to why Harry would say such a thing about Sirius. He knew that even the sanest of minds could play tricks when going through a massive emotional ordeal but Harry seemed genuinely distracted and convinced that he had in fact heard his dead Godfather. In some ways Remus felt guilty for leaving the boy alone, especially when he was so very confused and distressed.

He walked at a brisk pace down the road, passing the park at which he and Harry had last met on the way. Considering that Remus believed Harry to be at home, one can only imagine his surprise when he narrowly avoided a collision with a young, green eyed, messy haired boy; Harry.

Harry looked up into the face of his former professor and, after a moment of the two staring at each other, made to go past him. He was stopped however when Remus stepped into his path.

"Excuse me young man," he began. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm just getting some fresh air," Harry lied, "So if you don't mind," he said, making to push past the werewolf again.

"Stop right there," Remus commanded. "You've already been out today."

"Well I'm going out again, so excuse me -"

"Harry," Remus interrupted. "About what happened this morning."

"What about it?" Harry asked, looking past Remus, hoping to be anywhere else.

"You know what. Why did you say that about Sirius?" Remus asked. "I'm worried about you, Harry. You need to talk to me."

"I don't need anyone!" Harry said angrily, raising his voice. "The only person I ever needed fell through that veil in the Ministry! Everyone I love; everyone I get close to leaves me!"

Remus' eyes softened. He doubted that Harry had ever really shown that vulnerable side of himself to anyone. "Harry," Remus began, "You know that's not true. Hermione hasn't left, Ron hasn't left… I haven't left. You know I care for you, Harry, as if you were my son-"

"But I'm not your son," Harry stated emotionlessly, cutting Remus off. "My dad died 15 years ago in Godric's Hollow … because of me. Now if you don't mind I'd like you to get out of my way."

Remus stood his ground however and demanded that Harry tell him what he had meant that morning when he'd been adamant that he'd heard Sirius.

"I did hear him! He's alive Remus don't you see?!" Harry shouted desperately, looking at Remus with pleasing eyes, begging him to understand. "Sirius is alive!"

Remus took a step back from Harry, looking at him like he had grown another head. "Harry, he fell through the veil, you were there, you saw it!"

"I know! I know what I saw but I'm telling you he's alive! You have to believe me, Remus, please!"

Harry and Remus' shouts were beginning to attract attention and the curtains of many houses in the street were twitching.

"Come on, Harry," Remus said, "We can't talk here."

The werewolf grabbed Harry by the arm and steered him down the street, carrying on walking until he had reached the edge of the wards and was able to apparate away taking the distressed teenager with him.

* * *

Harry felt as if he was being sucked through a very small tube and a nauseous sensation passed over him. The feeling of dizziness and sickness only lasted a moment however, before he found himself standing beside his former professor in a very small sitting room, the walls lined with books and an old leather sofa sitting in the centre of the room. Harry realised that this must be Remus' home.

It wasn't long before he started to panic though. He needed to get to Sirius. Harry couldn't understand why Remus had brought him here. He turned to ask, only to be stopped short when he saw the wand that was being pointed at him.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Harry," Remus said softly.

"Do what? What are you doing?" Harry demanded urgently.

"I think you might need some help," the werewolf said.

"Help for what? I'm fine!"

"I think you need to come to terms with the fact that you may be mentally ill."

Harry opened his now dry mouth, only to close it quickly again; an action he repeated several times as he tried to get his bearings and figure out what to do. He instinctively reached for his own wand. Before he could grab it however, Remus spoke.

"It's for your own good, Harry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

That was the last thing he heard before his vision went black, and he found himself slipping into unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8: St Mungo's

Harry slowly blinked his eyes open, squinting at the bright white light that invaded them. He realised that he was lying in a hospital bed, with its white frame and blue sheets, and that he was in a room he did not recognise.

He stood from the bed, his feet making contact with the cold tile floor, and looked curiously around. The room was a hospital room, no doubt about that. The walls were painted an almost blinding white, a disused medical machine stood in the corner just behind a blue fabric cloth armchair and there was that distinct sanitary chemical smell that Harry always associated with the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

Feeling slightly sick, Harry slowly walked to the door that stood at the foot of the bed. His legs felt disused; almost disconnected from his body, making Harry wonder how long he'd been lying unconscious in the unfamiliar hospital bed.

The door would not budge, no matter how hard he pushed or pulled, and Harry began to panic. He reached for his wand out of instinct, but the tool that had aided him greatly throughout his school years was nowhere to be found.

Harry's anxiety levels began to rapidly rise and he felt his heart rate quicken. The room around him began to spin in a mass of colours before his eyes as his palms became clammy and wet. His breathing started to become irregular as he fought for his grip on reality, feeling himself slipping further and further into a major panic attack.

As Harry fell to the floor, his knobbly knees buckling weakly out from beneath him, a small team of people in medical uniforms came bursting into the room, rushing forward and grasping him under his armpits, hoisting him up and onto the bed.

Harry could hear a man talking to him; one of the doctors he thought, but the words were indistinguishable and sounded faraway. The next thing he knew, Harry felt a sharp pain shoot up through his arm, as if a needle had been stabbed roughly into him.

Almost of its own accord, all of the panic and distress began draining from Harry, leaving him with a calm and sleepy feeling. The room came to a standstill and after a moment of staring slightly dazed around the room, Harry became aware of another's presence on the bed with him.

"Hello Harry," said a man in some blue doctor's robes, speaking to him slowly and calmly, almost as if he were a temperamental animal. "I'm Doctor Harper, but you can call me Marcus if you like."

"Where am I," Harry asked, surprising himself by how serene and spacey he sounded, despite his earlier levels of distress.

"Don't worry, Harry. You're perfectly safe. You're in the mental health ward at St Mungo's. Your friend brought you in a few days ago, Remus I think his name was. Said you've been having some trouble coping with your Godfather's passing."

"He's not dead," Harry said plainly, "He's been calling out to me. I'm telling you, I heard him. I'm not crazy."

"I never said that you were. You're not crazy, you're mentally ill-"

"I'm not ill!" Harry exclaimed, cutting Marcus off as he rose from the bed. "Sirius is alive, you have to believe me!"

"Harry," began Marcus, looking at the teenager before him disbelievingly, "When we lose someone close to us, the stress and pain can cause even the sanest of minds to play tricks. That's why I'm here, Harry. I'm here to help."

"I don't need help," Harry insisted, exaggerating every syllable. "I'm fine. I just want my Godfather back."

"Okay," Marcus said slowly, "I'm going to go so you can have some space and time to adjust. If you need anything then just press that red button by the door," the Doctor finished, rising from the bed and exiting the room.

With the revelation that one of his closest friends had committed him to a mental ward, Harry was left sitting on his own in the hospital room, feeling more alone than ever before and wondering how things had got so out of hand and praying for someone, anyone to listen.


End file.
